Xena and the Scythian Spy
by Phineas Redux
Summary: Xena and Gabrielle chase a fugitive through the streets and buildings of Athens.


'**Xena and the Scythian Spy**'

By Phineas Redux

—OOO—

**Description:— **Xena and Gabrielle chase a fugitive through the streets and buildings of Athens.

**Disclaimer**:— MCA/Universal/RenPics own all copyrights to everything related to '_Xena: Warrior Princess_' and I have no rights to them.

**A Note on the Representation of the Society of the Era Concerned:— **'Thus positioned, even though engaged upon a work of biographical exactness, it is more convenient (as is now, indeed, the common usage) to refer definitely to the conversation and manner of behaving of ordinary persons then alive, and these, in spite of the distinction of moving in so classical an era, would seem providentially to have conducted themselves in a manner not appreciably different from our own.' — '_The Moon of Much Gladness_'. 1932. Ernest Bramah.

**Note:—** This is the 2nd Story in the '_Xena's Exploits_' series—the first story of which is '_Xena and the Island Fortress_'.

—O—

The afternoon was warm with a sky blue as cornflowers, from which the sun blazed with a firm determination not usually seen outside a Senator's convention heading steadfastly towards their dinners. The Agora was crowded; as this was the day before one of those many Festivals which were becoming so numerous nowadays that citizens could be forgiven for having no true idea of which God, Goddess, or idealised Personification was actually being honoured at any particular time. The streets of Athens, notoriously narrow, winding, and un-planned, were a hive of activity as everyone went about their business: citizens paying calls on friends; women heading to shops or markets, looking for the ingredients of the coming evening meal; children playing, which simply meant getting under everyone's feet at every opportunity; and, of course, the Guild of Pick-pockets present to a man, woman, and child, aiming to separate absolutely anyone and everyone from their money-pouches—and a roaring trade they were doing, too. Meanwhile Xena and Gabrielle were in the Stoa of Attalos, each on separate floors, marking their prey.

The persons who had earned the attention of the two most dangerous women in Greece were three in number; although this could more rightly be re-interpreted as one leader and his two henchmen. The man who was the centre of interest was a Greek citizen of some forty years, sporting a fine thickly-flowing beard to prove it. His accomplices were simply examples of the ever present rag-tag-and-bobtail dregs of humanity who infested the lower-class districts of the city; all not truly being, as Pausanius and other travel writers so ardently tried to imply, sweetness and light around the Acropolis—oh no, not by any means. The present specimen, Amyklas by name, was by way of trade two things—a merchant dealing in corn and olive oil; and a traitor, in the pay of the Scythians. Unfortunately for him the Senate, becoming suspicious, had brought in Xena and Gabrielle. And the women had, after some nifty footwork and logical deduction on the part of both, fingered Amyklas as the worm in the turnip. So here they all were; Xena and Gabrielle bearing down on their targets, ready to make the final capture—while Amyklas was blissfully unaware his days of wine and roses were rapidly approaching their terminus.

The Stoa, as everyone of course knows, is made up of two long wide pillared loggia, running parallel, one above the other. The ground floor has a double row of columns; one external,—in lieu of an outer wall—giving access to the public Agora, through which potential customers can freely come and go; while the second is set some distance back, running down the centre of the internal passage-way; this public corridor being wide and airy; with the shops, or more precisely their doorways, running the entire length of the interior wall. The loggia above, on the first floor, is slightly narrower; with a low waist-high wall on the outside surmounted by a row of pillars, while a second row of pillars runs along close to the internal wall containing the doors to the other shops—each corridor being marble-floored. Both concourses were crowded with bona-fide shoppers, but much more so with those citizens merely out to show themselves off to the passing throng and enjoy a stroll and gossip. Xena had explained her basic plan to the Amazon Queen before they started out on their expedition; the said member of Royalty being less than overwhelmed by the details. In fact, it might more truly be said she was under-whelmed to a degree—and didn't hold back from telling the light-of-her-life so; which had only served to cause some temporary iciness between the two, as they stalked their prey in the huge building.

It was Xena's idea to place Gabrielle on the first floor watching, at a distance, a Senator's secretary who was now known to be passing information on to Amyklas; while the Warrior Princess waited on the ground floor for the appearance of Amyklas himself. Then Xena would hold off till he and his henchmen strode up one or other of the flights of stairs, located at each end of the building, giving access to the first floor where the secretary awaited them,—her idea being that upstairs they would have no chance of merely slipping through the open ground-floor rows of columns to effect a quick escape amongst the crowds milling around outside in the Agora. Ah, a beautiful plan but, as clearly foreseen by Gabrielle, doomed to failure from the first.

The women had amassed a certain amount of prior information; from dubious and not very satisfactory sources, it's true—but still, all informants' gen was grist to the mill, in the cause of democracy. Anyway, they had been standing around for the last hour, Xena out in the Agora, Gabrielle already on the first floor of the Stoa pretending to shop at the numerous booths and stalls cluttering up the supposedly open space of the wide loggia; both trying not to look suspicious, when finally their quarry had duly appeared. But after this tolerable opening to the women warriors' plan all began to unravel at breakneck speed. After hesitating a moment on the verge of the row of pillars giving access to the marble-paved interior loggia, Amyklas had nodded at his two followers and headed for the left-hand stair leading to the first floor. At this point, just as Amyklas was stepping forward to place a foot on the first granite step leading to the upper floor of the building, one of Amyklas's henchmen—of a deeply suspicious mind, gained no doubt through a lifetime of under-handed and illegal activities,—who had been casing the innumerable members of the hoi polloi amongst whom the trio of spies were walking, focussed a beady eye on the tall dark leather-clad and short-skirted woman a few score paces in their rear who was obviously doing her best to remain inconspicuous amongst the rapidly moving crowd. The man grabbed the merchant's sleeve, nodded over towards Xena, and immediately the Princess's plan went out the window. Amyklas, without losing step, turned and, slipping rapidly and smoothly through the open columns of the Stoa, headed for the thickest part of the crowd in the centre of the busy Agora; all idea of going to the Stoa's upper floor obviously abandoned.

"_Shit!_—and _shit!_" Xena growled deep in her throat. "The bastard's seen me, an' realised what's goin' on. Gods, now we got'ta grab the swine quick."

Abandoning all attempt at concealment Xena dashed further out into the busy Agora, turned, and whistled piercingly. Immediately Gabrielle appeared high above at the low wall of the balcony-like first floor, leaning over between two columns, searching for her partner.

"Hey, Gabs, come down quick. Make it snappy—they're getting' away."

The blonde-haired Amazon waved an arm in acknowledgement and disappeared. Within ten heartbeats she had rushed down the flight of stairs, irate shoppers she had to push unceremoniously aside cursing in her rear, and joined her companion; eyebrows raised questioningly.

Without pausing for any polite greeting, Xena raced off across the Agora; mercilessly pushing errant citizens out of the way, in her turn.

"I told you we should'a put cloaks over our clothes, or dressed differently." Gabrielle, though now running beside her companion, still easily had enough breath for complaint. "Didn't I say earlier, if we appear in our usual dress he's bound t'smell a rat. We look like warriors, after their prey—and that's what he thought, too. Now he knows he's been rumbled, he'll head for the hills like an escaped bull—an' never be seen again. So much for your smart plan."

"Gab, give over, this ain't the time or the place." Xena was angry, more at herself than anything else. She had allowed herself to think lazily, and now she was suffering the consequences. "What about that Senator's Steward you were tailin'?"

"Oh, he'll be picked up sharpish; there were two Athenian Army officers, in civilian clothes, along with me—like you'd already planned; they'll feel his collar quickly enough." Gabrielle sniffed sarcastically, not easy while running through a crowd, but she managed it. "Which is more'n we're likely t'do with Amyklas."

"There's still some hope." Xena never slowed, keeping a watchful eye ahead, where their prey were still pushing through the crowds. "He's takin' the Panathenaic Way south, towards the Acropolis. Maybe he thinks he can actually get as far as Piraeus, an' board some ship t'safety. We got'ta head the slimy thug off."

"How?"

"You veer off towards the left-hand side of the Agora." Xena could think on her feet faster than anyone. "I'll try an' keep up with them. You try'n stop any of 'em from takin' one of these side-roads or alleys. We'll really lose 'em then. OK, Gabs,—go."

The Agora, as was usual nowadays, seemed more like a great market in some large rural town. The wide space; either paved with great flat squares of granite, or simply left as bare earth, was supposed to allow citizens to meet and talk comfortably in an open area. But custom had quickly taken this over as a wonderful spot to set up your stall or tent, and settle down to conning the passing trade. So now, while everyone still met there, they had to mingle with the crowds wandering around the innumerable merchant's stalls firmly planted anywhere a likely open expanse beckoned. For the two women this meant a great deal of difficulty in keeping their prey in sight.

The Panathenaic Way, though unmarked, cut across the Agora at an angle before taking up its rightful position as an actual street or road again—heading more or less in a southerly direction towards the great mass of the Acropolis. It was not, in itself, a particularly wide or impressive thoroughfare; being in actuality simply another winding Athenian street, lined on each side by various public or private buildings—of differing dates, heights, workmanship, and uses. Every so often these were interrupted by other lanes, streets or roads leading off in several directions; all being unplanned and of widely differing widths or straightness. To say Athens was a miracle of town-planning and design, as far as the roads went, would be a lie—the place was an unplanned mess, where any fleeing criminal could easily lose themselves with ease, at a moment's notice.

Having followed the Princess's orders to the letter, Gabrielle found herself far beyond shouting range; the Agora being around one hundred and fifty paces broad. This, allied to the crowds roaming everywhere, made communication between the two women impossible. The Amazon had to rely on eyesight, and logic, in about equal amounts. She had already managed to glimpse enough of Amyklas's two henchmen to be able to recognise them; so kept a sharp eye out as she passed each lane entrance or side-street, though she had to slow down as a result; meanwhile being well aware that, as a consequence, she was falling somewhat behind Xena.

Within a few seconds it seemed, to the hurrying woman, the edge of the Agora appeared and the road that was the Panathenaic Way drew in its boundaries. But things hadn't improved for Gabrielle. The road, being the straightest most important thoroughfare between the Agora and the Acropolis, still contained hundreds of citizens and wayfarers from the surrounding countryside all milling about as they went to and fro. The road soon showed itself as around forty paces wide; though now Gabrielle found she had to cope with a certain amount of wheeled traffic as well. Numerous two-wheeled carts and several four-wheeled wagons, all horse or donkey-drawn, swept along the road; taking, it appeared, not very much notice of the crowds, the majority of whom were generally left to their own devices to jump out of the way, when necessary—but, that's Athens for you.

Gabrielle took a quick glance backwards; trying to see over the heads of the crowds, or between various groups of pedestrians. She could just make out the clusters and lines of multi-coloured canvas tents and stall-tops of the now distant semi-market; with the slopes and pinnacled crest of the mighty Lycabettus rising behind, in the near distance, as a rocky green backdrop. Turning forward again she looked straight down the Panathenaic Way, as far as was possible; the clearly visible outline of the distant massif that was the Acropolis, with the white rectangle of the Parthenon and the enormous free-standing statue of Athena Promachus clearly visible, already dominating the horizon ahead. And still the crowds seemed, if anything, to increase in numbers as the lithe small-bodied blonde pushed through them; keeping her eyes sharply focussed for any sight of her prey.

—O—

For Amyklas it had so far already been a bad day. It had started bad, and proceeded to go downhill with every passing moment. He had been in a relationship for just over a year with a pretty young blonde girl from Megara. Some twenty-one years old—though intellectually, coming on forty—she had proved a handful from the start. And just this morning Amyklas, having had a late night at a symposium and afterwards spending the ensuing hours drunkenly unconscious on a low couch in the main ground-floor room of his house, had awoken to a short scroll lying by the side of his tousled head.

_Dear Myk, —Drunk as a Boeotian ground squirrel yet again, I see. Well, this is the last time. I've taken that pouch of drachmas you hid in the linen chest in your room; after all, you owe me. I'm going back to mother in Megara. Don't send well-wishes or tear-stained solicitations of love—I don't care anymore. Yours, Persephone._

Not the kind of love-note to make a man's heart race with unbounded joy—there were something like 500 drachmas in that damned pouch. Hades! Why hadn't he thought of a better hiding-place? Oh well, the Fates clearly had it in for him today. He glanced skywards; but as usual the damned bitches were invisible as they went about their nefarious—and wholly unjustified—activities. However, he now had other things to occupy that small lump of grey matter taking up space in his skull, which he was pleased to call his brain. It wasn't every day you got to be chased for your very life through the smelly, close streets of Athens by a vengeful Warrior Princess and a coldly-determined Amazon Queen—and, dammit, today was that day.

"Can things possibly get worse?"

"Wassat, sire?"

The three men were running down the centre of the Panathenaic Way; or, at least, trying to do so against the crowds and road traffic. By Amyklas' left hand ran Brosius, a heavy-set sailor from Piraeus whose moral code stood at the mark where he'd certainly sell his grandmother as a hoplite in the Athenian army, if offered enough—and probably already had. On Amyklas' right hand puffed the rather slimmer, but no more physically sound, figure of Kronos—a slimy pickpocket and general thug from the lower social levels of Athenian society—the scumbag level, that is. All three men were beginning to puff and blow like a group of porpoises leading a trireme through wine-dark seas, but with far less elegance and staying power.

"To Hades with this." Brosius was the first to see sense, and branch out on his own. "So, this is where all your damned conniving and plotting has gotten us, eh. About three wagons-length's away from having our entrails exposed for the delight of the citizens, by those two mad women behind us. You do know that the tall dark one's Xena, don't ya? F—k this, I'm off. I just hope she kills your damned carcass slow and painful."

Having expressed his undying love for his erstwhile leader with this parting shot Brosius executed a rather fine, considering his girth, quick left turn and vanished in the crowd—heading for a nearby side street. Now there were only two.

"Amyklas?"

"What? Save your breath." Amyklas was by now taking deep lungfuls of air; which didn't, however, seem to much strengthen his legs. "We got'ta reach the Acropolis. I got friends there, who'll help me. Just keep going. If those women catch up, hold back and delay them—I'll pay you well, later."

Kronos was an imbecile, of low breeding and no moral worth whatsoever. But even he wasn't such an imbecile as to fall for that one. Quite clearly, even to his somewhat dim misty view of reality, there was no chance of any likely future for Amyklas. Indeed, if there was ever an Olympus-sent moment for abandoning ship, that moment was now. Without so much as a parting glance Kronos veered off and set out on his own odyssey, without looking back once—sadly, he made the mistake of going in the same direction as his former companion, Brosius,—though down the next side-street. Now there was only one.

"F—k!"

Feeling as if he now knew exactly how Oedipus must have felt, with all the anger of the Gods weighing on his shoulders, Amyklas put his head down and charged forwards through the mass of strollers and citizens so impolitely getting in his way. It was amazing what the imminent fear of death could do for a man's resolve to escape at all costs. The Acropolis—friends—safety—escape; at least he hoped his esrtwhile friends would still acknowledge and stand by him—and finally, if they did, life, instead of skewering on the end of Xena's sword. He ran faster.

—O—

Gabrielle had set herself a comfortable pace through the crowds. Not too fast that she was constantly bumping and pushing people out of her way; but not so slow she would lose her prey. She was dressed in her regular attire of small top held in place by thin straps of leather round her back; short skirt of linen and leather inserts, leaving her thighs bare for speed; and boots of soft deerskin, with sais strapped to them by leather bands. These particular weapons were actually newly bought from one of the best armourers' shops in the city. She had felt for some time her old sais were somewhat blunt, old-fashioned, and not made of true enough steel. The replacements she had finally bought, after fairly ransacking the poor armourer's shop and nearly giving him a heart attack with her criticisms and questions, were of the best Ephesian steel; designed and made by an expert; and had the extra, modern, asset of one edge being sharpened like a dagger or sword—thus giving them the capability of being used as a purely stabbing weapon, unlike most normal sais. And in the hands of an Amazon, trained to a fine edge herself, they were the most dangerous weapons imaginable.

Every now and then, through the passing throng, or sometimes over the heads of lesser groups of people, she caught a glimpse of Xena moving swiftly along; so knew she was still keeping up with the race. Then, for perhaps the space of three breaths, she found herself some way ahead of her fellow pursuer—and at this point she clearly saw, maybe thirty paces in front, one of the followers of Amyklas make a sudden break to his left and disappear down a side-street. Without a second thought Gabrielle eased over to her left and, when an appropriate moment occurred, dived through the crowd and struck out down this street too. Her quarry was easily recognisable by his girth and out of character turn of speed. He was also not equipped with Gabrielle's sense of politeness; heaving people who got in his way aside like sacks of grain—leaving a line of angry, fuming victims behind him, berating his disappearing form with half-remembered curses they themselves had most probably never had occasion to use since their youth.

Gabrielle was swift; light on her feet; easily able to veer and swerve round passing men or women; and fit enough to still be running well within her scope, without losing breath. Though even she was surprised how quickly she made up the intervening distance and came shoulder to shoulder with her target just as the lane intersected the next street down from the Panathenaic Way.

"Hit your brakes, slimeface,—your game's up."

Merely casting a frightened glance in her direction; his face red as a beetroot and sweating so hard his features were visibly dripping, Brosius turned and raced on along the cobbled road—his gasps for each breath clearly audible. Confronted with this brazen flouting of her advice; and seeing that a crowd of women loaded with shopping baskets were close ahead and nearly in the line of fire, Gabrielle took a running leap and tackled the bulky man to the ground—both falling in a sliding heap engulfed by thick dust and dirt. He gave a loud wail and tried to rise again, but the Amazon had him by the belt. Discovering this he instantly produced from somewhere about his person a long-bladed dagger, and proceeded to try to slice at his attacker's arm.

Gabrielle, going into defence mode, already had a sai in her left hand, which she used to obstruct her assailant's knife—catching its blade in one of the wide arched crossguards extending either side of her weapon's hilt. With a flick of her wrist she dis-armed the man—his knife flying away to bounce harmlessly off the stone of a nearby building and rattle into the gutter. Staggering to her feet, with fingers firmly clutching the man's jerkin by the shoulder, she attempted to haul him erect too; but he still had dreams of escape and, not being by any stretch of the imagination a gentleman, he twisted round and tried to kick Gabrielle between her legs. This was obviously his default mode of attack in situations of a similar nature but, his opponent being female, it lacked the usual follow-through to be expected in other circumstances. And Gabrielle was, as well, highly trained and ready for just this kind of dirty move. Twisting lithely, with astounding speed, she twirled round away from the man, whose kicking leg passed by her right knee while she still kept tight hold of his left wrist. Planting her feet firmly, she gripped his shoulder and arm with both hands and, using his own impetus, twirled him round in the air like a child's toy. He spun on his axis; feet flying into the air in a circle above his head; his whole body performed a loop in the air, and he came back to earth face down; hitting the cobbles with a loud thump, allied to the clearly audible snapping of several ribs and the ringing of his skull on a hard stone. There was a cloud of dust, a slight tremor of the ground, and he lay still, unconscious to all around him—a position which he was fated to hold for the next two hours. He was absolutely out of the game; as much as any losing fighter in the pankration ring—and with just about as many injuries.

Leaving her victim motionless in the dirt Gabrielle raced on down the narrow road, heading forwards towards the Acropolis again. She knew she was running in parallel to Xena, in the Panathenaic Way over to her right hand side, but had to judge whether she was still ahead or behind the Princess. It was likely, she realised, that her late fight had made her fall behind so a burst of speed was essential. The street was much narrower than the main road, but equally crowded—making it difficult either to hurry along with any great rapidity, or see what was happening at any distance. But things improved just as she reached the next connecting side lane going back up to the Panathenaic Way for, before she could take more than a pace into its somewhat confined margins, a hurtling body crashed into her coming from the opposite direction.

Kronos, for it was he, was intent on putting as much distance between himself and his late leader as humanly possible, in as short a time as possible. It was a mathematical problem that might well have interested Euclid, on one of those days when he was bored with Sections and Angles; but presently Kronos simply wished to escape to freedom, without pausing to take into account the fascinating moral or mathematical concepts involved in his cowardly motivations. The result was, of course, looking back over his shoulder for any sign of a pursuing vengeful Princess he instead ran full tilt into a cold implacable Amazon Queen—probably a worse result, if he only knew.

Considering the circumstances—knocked awry and spread-eagled in the dust—the Gabrielle that went down was a girl of happy nature, with joy in her heart towards all humanity; whereas the Gabrielle who rose lithely to her booted feet was a simmering volcano of un-repressed rage and fury against every single man in the universe, but particularly the one painfully clambering upright beside her at the moment—to say his fate was sealed would be the understatement of the century.

"Hallo, bastard! I'm Gabrielle."

Following this polite introduction with swift retribution the blonde Amazon, who had recognised her assailant in an instant, smacked him on the chin with a closed right fist. Kronos, with an expression of complete surprise, jolted back two paces waving his arms wildly to keep his balance—but the raging unhinged Amazon had other ideas. She jumped forward, sank her left fist into his stomach, and as he sagged limply with a pained sigh of escaping breath, followed this with a straight piledriver to the man's jaw which sent him head over heels into the dust once more—this time for keeps. Gabrielle, over the past couple of years, had been taking lessons in fist-fighting from some of the most experienced wily and unforgiving Amazons in her tribe; the result being that in a stand-up fist-fight nowadays Gabrielle was a force to be reckoned with; Kronos having had no chance from his first encounter with the blonde Valkyrie.

"Pathetic. What a loser."

With this parting shot Gabrielle set off once more towards the Panathenaic Way. Coming out from the side street into the relatively wider Way once more she was again as quickly encircled by the moving shuffling shoulder-bumping crowds. _Damn, these Festival days were such a nuisance!_ Slipping smoothly past a lady strolling along with three children in tow, the Amazon cut through the throng like a bireme through a strong sea. Finally she caught a glimpse of the tall dark Princess moving in the centre of the road, snarling every now and then at passing wagon drivers who thought they had the right of way—a mistake Xena swiftly corrected for them, using some remarkably descriptive language as she did so. Making friends not being, at the moment, her highest priority.

"Hey, Xena! I'm back. All's well."

Xena turned her head and swiftly found Gabrielle in the crowd. The warrior raised an arm in recognition, and waved to her companion to keep on ahead through the milling people—all of whom were blissfully unaware of the women's goal.

"He's about fifty paces ahead. I can't reach him yet. Keep on your side of the road."

Having given these instructions in a deep contralto which easily rang over the encompassing noise of the busy road and its human throng, Xena turned once more to the task of making headway. She didn't mean to let Amyklas reach the Acropolis, or continue on towards Piraeus, if she had any say in the matter.

—O—

Xena's intention had primarily been to simply race after the malefactor; collar him with prejudice, whether need be or not; and drag his sorry carcass back to the Athenian authorities, who would know what to do with him. But the Festival crowds, and the narrowness of the road, were steadily hampering her in the execution of this commendable plan. And at this delicate point in the chase things became worse. From a side street to her right a long heavily laden wagon drew out into the main thoroughfare. Led by no less than six large horses it contained a mass of logs, some twenty feet long; probably meant for a nearby carpentry business. But at the moment its only purpose seemed to be to block the road to all other traffic; it being so large in itself it had become trapped in trying to negotiate the sharp corner into the Panathenaic Way. The ensuing crowds did little to help the situation; indeed, were part of the problem, hindering all efforts by those who merely wished to pass by. Within seconds a mass of people had formed an almost impenetrable wedge of humanity which, allied to the other wagons in the road which were now also irretrievably stuck, made it impossible for Gabrielle and Xena to continue on their present course. With no other path available Xena pushed, with scant courtesy to those impeding her way, over towards the left hand side of the road, and Gabrielle.

"Hades! What a mess. Can ya see Amyklas anywhere?"

"Nah. Looks like he went past just before the log wagon appeared." Gabrielle shook her head disconsolately. "He's on the other side of all this, comfortably on his way t'the Acropolis. We'd better find a side-street, t' bypass this tangle."

"Y'don't say. Gods, why didn't _I_ think o'that?"

When Xena felt the need to be sarcastic she usually let fly with abandon, as now; but Gabrielle, being long inured to the rapidly varying moods of the Princess, took no notice, merely searching for the nearest side-street which would allow forward progress. Xena curled a lip at this snubbing of her feelings; cast an eye skywards in exasperation; then shamefacedly relented.

"Sorry, Gabs. Didn't mean it. I can be a bitch sometimes, I know. —forgive me?"

"Sure, sure, no problem." The Amazon Queen was all-encompassing in her clemency; but she also had an eye for the main chance, even in these present circumstances. "But it'll mean three nights of oiled back-rubs an' all-over massage for me, baby. Deal?"

"Deal." The relieved Warrior heaved a sigh of relief, then returned to business. "This lane looks like it'll lead down t'the next street. Come on, pick those boots up; we got'ta make some speed if we're gon'na catch the bastard. Follow me."

"Don't I always?"

But the Princess was already four paces ahead of the petite blonde and increasing her lead. Gabrielle ran faster.

—O—

The lane disgorged the hurrying warriors into another wider street, lined on either hand by two-storied houses of varying size and height; this seeming to parallel its more august neighbour,—if the fact that the Acropolis still being clearly in sight ahead on the distant skyline, temples and statue on its flat crown gleaming snowlike in the burning sun, was anything to go by. At least there were fewer wagons in evidence here, so movement was far easier as the women ran along the centre of the road after their invisible, indeed now merely hypothetical, prey.

"Where—where's he really headed?" Gabrielle chose a moment for this question as they paused to let a crowd of citizens pass by. "I mean, who's he aiming t'meet, or what?"

"There are several Senators and rich citizens who, I've been told, contribute secretly to the organisation behind his activities." The Princess shook her head in disgust, black locks waving in the hot air. "Y'know these Senators—many have second careers as major Priests in some of the more well-known Temples. He probably figures one or another, up there on the Acropolis at the moment, will help him. More likely they'll deny everything an' cut him free t'find his own salvation. They know their heads'll be on the chopping-block otherwise."

"So, what's the reason we're tryin' t'break records for running from the Agora t'the Acropolis, then?" Gabrielle always knew where her best interests lay. "I mean, why don't we just walk there, an' grab Amyklas at leisure; without all this fuss an' bother?"

"Because he's just as likely t'disappear, like the slimy rat he is." Xena growled menacingly as she thought about this likelihood. "His primary aim, I think, is certainly t'buttonhole some Senator friend on the Acropolis. Otherwise he's as likely t'lose himself in the crowds, as he's doin' now. Skulk in some low-down slum till the heat's off; then flit through the shadows one night to Piraeus, an' find a pal there t'put him aboard some ship sailing for distant ports. Can't let that happen, Gabs; it'd ruin our reputation, wouldn't it; an', anyway, I sort'a feel its personal now—I really wan'na knock him down an' trample his slimy face in the mud. Any objections?"

"Nah. Seems OK t'me." The Amazon could roll with the punch, when necessary. "If his other two henchmen were anythin' t'go by you can do what y'like t'him, lover. No skin off my nose."

They were now moving forward again, keeping as much as possible in the road to avoid the multifarious hordes clogging the edges of the thoroughfare; where raised stone walkways were set in the ground as paths, a few inches above the level of the road proper—part of a new safety scheme organised by the Senate, during one of its more productive socially conscious sittings.

As they sped on their way Xena kept some pace and a half ahead; her usual standby modus operandi. Gabrielle, through long experience, was accustomed to this so could take the time, as they moved along, to study the figure in front of her at leisure. Xena used a steady loping run; smooth and ground-covering without over-exertion. Her black leather boots rose to just below her knees; her calves were strongly muscled and firm; thighs powerful and well-formed. Her skirt was short; made up of thin strips of leather overlying each other, allowing her bare legs maximum freedom of movement. At present, as she darted along just behind, Gabrielle could see the sheen of sweat covering her partner's legs, allowing them to shine in the bright sun like pillars of white marble. Xena's waist was encircled by the tight corset-like leather top she felt most comfortable in; its front decorated, as always, with various bronze accoutrements acting as armour—though they were really simply ornamental, rather than meant for any more warlike purposes. Her bare arms were also muscled like an Olympian athlete; upper arms encircled by wide leather armlets, accompanying wristlets of leather embossed with bronze trimmings. Her long black hair swooped and flowed in the air with her movements, as she wended her way through the many people obstructing their way; giving the Amazon behind heart palpitations at the beauty of the effect produced by the glints of sunlight on the dark strands. _Gods,—_ Gabrielle thought, with the same wonder she always felt when pondering on this subject, _—and all for me!_

Any passer-by, —and there were many, of both sexes,—who paused to observe the blonde Amazon as she flitted by would have seen a young woman in the bloom of her physical strength. Gabrielle was certainly somewhat lacking in height, by Athenian standards—where many women, as well as men, stood tall as Gods or Goddesses; but she was lithe, firm, well-muscled, and perfectly formed. Her boots, reaching only half-way to her knees, were made of deerskin with two sais strapped to them by thin cords; her thighs were bare as Xena's—barer, indeed, as her skirt was proportionately shorter. The Princess liked to niggle her gently about this fashion statement; but Gabrielle merely countered by saying it was purely for ease of movement in fighting—an Amazon thing. Xena, diplomatically, forbore to argue the matter; anyway, Gabrielle's legs were worth keeping in view at any time, after all, —a win-win situation, as the Warrior Princess often told herself, by way of excuse.

Gabrielle's hair had been cut short for a couple of years now; the blonde sun-bleached locks shaped round her head like a helmet. Her chest and stomach, unlike her companion, were bare; her upper body only covered by a short top concealing her breasts—and barely succeeding in this, generally. The cords holding this garment—if it could indeed truly be described as such—in place, encircling her back and tied off there, were so thin that from a distance anyone might be excused for thinking the young woman was actually topless. Her bare skin, in the hot sun, now exhibited a sheen of sweat equal to her companion; her back, particularly, shining like a mirror as the sunbeams glittered in sharp reflections from her pale skin. All in all the two women were objects of pure beauty, and a joy to look on by disinterested—or even not so disinterested—spectators. Meanwhile, mostly unaware of the delightful spectacle they were making for many bystanders, the women ran on their way in pursuit of their nefarious prey.

—O—

They sprinted past several passage-ways, and two wider lanes, as they continued on; Xena's thinking being, as she told Gabrielle, they needed to put a good distance between them and the traffic jam. Finally a side-street appeared which seemed to catch the Princess's attention and, with a perfunctory gesture to her companion, she darted up its shaded course. Gabrielle grunted, unsurprised, and ran close behind. On reaching the Panathenaic Way for the umpteenth time Xena paused to take stock.

The crowd round the stuck wood wagon could still be seen in the distance to their right; but to their left the road was just as busy and thronged with people as ever. Of their quarry no sign could be seen. It was a moment for tranquil reflection and studied calm reasoning.

"_F—k!_ Lost the bastard. Gods' dam' it all t'Hades!"

"Well, we know where he's probably going." The Amazon, on the other hand, was clear-headed, cool, and infuriatingly logical. "All we got'ta do is head for the Propylaea,—the gateway t'the Acropolis; run up the stairs; an' have a quick shufti round the various temples for him. Great Athena, hope he ain't in the Parthenon—y'know how crowded with tourists _it_ always is."

Faced with this relaxed studied objectivity the Warrior Princess found herself reciting—internally, of course—some pithy descriptions of men in general, and of Amyklas in particular. And visible on the edge of her delicately balanced mental lucubrations—merely, indeed, a vague shadowy unformed silhouette—wavered an image which might, in certain faint misty lights, be described as the nebulous reflection of an Amazon Queen. But Xena still had the memory of those three oil-massages to come clogging up her future schedule, so comforted herself by merely grunting unintelligibly—obviously the safest course, in the circumstances.

"Right, er, let's go."

—O—

Access to the Acropolis, on a busy Festival day such as the present, was near impossible. It being the focus of interest and attention of the vast majority of citizens—and a great many travellers from distant lands. A significant part of its popularity lay in the fact it's flat crest sat almost five hundred feet above the streets and houses of the actual city, with all of the stultifying heat and dust to be found down there—not to mention its masses of closely packed inhabitants. On the Acropolis there was at least, high above all the smelly hovels which made up the vast majority of the city's houses, some elbow-room and fresh cool air to be enjoyed. So the temples atop the great hill were always well-attended, even on non-Festival days. Though, it need hardly be said, most had no intention of actually engaging in any real religious activities; they just used the environs of the many temples located on the summit as an extended public garden, to stroll in at their leisure.

After toiling up a winding unpaved dusty path the citizen would finally, about nine-tenths of the way up, reach a wide marble stairway leading to what looked for all the world like the main pillared entrance to a vast temple: this was the Propylaea, the actual gate to the open flat pinnacle of the massif which was the Acropolis, with its many gardens, temples, and monuments. Today the steps of the stair were nearly invisible under the feet of the hundreds, if not thousands, of citizens who had chosen to wend their way up to cooler fresher zones.

"_Damn_, as much of a crowd as down in the city." Xena was unimpressed by this mass of humanity out to enjoy itself. "_Dam_'. Where in Hades d'they all come from? An' why in Hades d'they all need'ta come here? Gods' dam' it."

"Easy, lady." Gabrielle went into her well-rehearsed soothing mode; this present situation being, by now, second nature to her. "The Propylaea's the only entrance, remember; that means it's also the only exit. All we need'ta do is keep an eye on it, an' Amyklas is trapped. Always supposin', of course, he's already here. What d'ya think, gorgeous?"

"He bloody better be here." The Princess was adamant; showing her perfect teeth in something that was not a smile. "I don't intend t'go all the way t'Piraeus, in his smelly wake. We're gon'na find the rat here; an' we'll take him down here. Come on."

—O—

Climbing the final flight of stairs, and passing under the shadow of the pillared portico which was the Propylaea proper, the women shortly found themselves coming out onto the flat top of the Acropolis. The first feature of immediate interest, after the astounding view which opened up to the spectator on all sides, was the huge free-standing bronze statue of Athena Promachus. Facing the interior entrance to the Propylaea, the statue rose thirty feet in height, showing a standing Goddess with a large shield, and holding an upright tall gold-tipped spear—the point of which could be seen, reflecting sunlight, by ships far out to sea approaching Athens. In the distance to the women's left, across roof-tops and through the wood-smoke of innumerable kitchen fires, Lycabettus could be seen; its pointed crest spearing the sky in its turn. While to their right the rest of the city lay sprawling towards the sea. Piraeus, on the coast, was clearly visible—with the shattered debris of the mostly decrepit remains of the double Long Walls, which had connected the two townships in earlier times, still making a line of sight and easily followed trail between the city and the port.

As they left the shadows of the Propylaea, to walk out onto the small paved square dominated by the statue of Athena, a young officer in the uniform of an Athenian hoplite squadron approached them with a welcoming grin.

"Greetings, Xena—Gabrielle." He stood just a couple of inches shorter than the Warrior Princess; clean shaven, with dark hair flowing to his shoulders, and sporting classically Greek features. "Is it Amyklas you're looking for? He came through, in a bit of a panic and sweating like a roast pig, only a short time ago. Don't quite know where he is at the moment; somewhere around. What are your orders?"

"Greetings, Agenor." Xena gave a short nod in lieu of salutation, then got down to business with the leader of the Security Platoon. "He's broken cover, and the Senate have ordered his immediate capture—no more playing games with him."

"Yeah, the fun's over." Gabrielle's green eyes, like the clear depths of the sea, reflected sparks of jade-tinted light as she smiled at the soldier. "We got'ta grab his pathetic ass before he escapes t'Piraeus, an' shores unknown."

"Poetic." The Princess sniffed impatiently.

"Well, he's somewhere on the Acropolis now, ladies." The young man was not at all put out by the chance of action at last. "As you know, this is the only way off the crest; the rest of the hill's surrounded by sheer cliffs and huge retaining walls. We've got him."

"All we need'ta do is find the wretch." The Amazon pin-pointed the only remaining fly in the ointment. "Any ideas?"

"The last glimpse I had of him he was headed down the left-hand side of the Parthenon." Agenor ran a hand through his plentiful locks, as he mused on the problem. "I think he may have been aiming for the Sanctuary of Zeus Polieus; or perhaps the Sanctuary of Pandion: they're both in that direction."

"_Gods!_" Gabrielle started muttering curses under her breath; as was her wont in other, similarly problematic, circumstances. "Completely on the far side of the whole shebang. Right at the further end of the Parthenon, an' beyond. _Hera's Hairgrips_, that's parasangs away!"

The Warrior Princess, meanwhile, was nearly hopping from boot to boot as her anxiety increased with every lost moment. Now, exasperated, she took firm control of the situation—which, of course, was her strong point.

"Give over, Gab." She was through taking prisoners. "Gods, ya tryin' t'tell me it's as far off as Kerkini, or what? Come on, get a grip. Right, Agenor, you keep watch here, t'make sure the groveling rodent don't make a break for freedom. Gabs an' I'll take a short tour o'the premises, on the lookout."

"What happens if he shows up, in your absence?" Agenor raised an incisive eyebrow questioningly.

"If he's submissive an' wants t'surrender—well, ya can content yourself with merely kicking the bastard from here t'the Parthenon, an' back. Just t'show him y'got everything well under control, y'know." Xena knew how to handle recalcitrant slimebags, who'd given her far more trouble than was naturally called for. "If he shows any sign o'fight, at all—feel free t'beat the Zeus out'ta him till he cries for mercy: that'll show him who's boss. Come on, Gabs."

—O—

The pillared side of the great Temple which was the far-fabled Parthenon seemed to stretch for stadia into the distance, as the women made their way through the still dense crowds.

"Which is the first temple we're gon'na come to, again?" The Princess was showing off all her renowned dis-interest in such religious trappings.

"We'll see the Altar of Athena, over to our left, in a few more paces." The Amazon Queen on the other hand was, typically, full of the recently well-read know-it-all's complete grasp of details. "Just an altar; then comes the Sanctuary of Zeus Polieus, immediately to the rear of the Parthenon, on the left again. That's it in the distance now, see?"

"Yeah, I got eyes." The dark-haired one had more important things on her mind. "Titchy little place, ain't it? You'd have thought they'd have done better by Zeus?"

"Oh, it's all down to donations, an' political power-games, y'know." The blonde Amazon turned her nose up in refined aversion to the subject. "Probably all someone could afford, years ago,—don't ask me how many. The Sanctuary of Pandion, by the way, is well past the rear of the Parthenon to the right-hand side,—way back against the far retaining wall on the very edge of the Acropolis. Can't quite see it from here. It'll come into view when we reach the end of this damned temple. _Great Hera_, I didn't think the Parthenon was so big."

They were now nearly three-quarters of the way towards their goal; the Temple rising high on their right-hand. Xena had, in fact, been giving it a close scrutiny as they pressed through the encroaching groups of citizens and idle spectators—many obviously from far lands.

"Did they all come here specially t'see this pile o'marble?" The Royal Warrior was not going to submit to the generally-held appreciation of a Wonder of the World—which it wasn't, really—without a fight. "Nice place, don't get me wrong, Gabrielle. Well-designed—anyone can see that. Some fancy decorations about the place, too. I like those painted bas-reliefs on that frieze around the top of the walls, behind the columns; lots of horses, processions, an' military action I think, goin' on by the looks of it. My kind'a scene."

"_Hurrumph!_"

Finally they reached the end of the massive building. Behind it, the ground opened up into a grassy garden-like square, with various small buildings placed—seemingly randomly—around its borders. The Sanctuary of Zeus Polieus was near at hand; just twenty paces away. While the slightly bigger and grander Sanctuary of Pandion sat some one hundred paces off to the right, well separated from the greater temple nearby.

Some sort of ceremony was going forward in the Sanctuary of Zeus. Priests were conducting a ritual outside its front door, with lesser priests and Senatorial big-wigs coming and going within its dark interior. The warrior women soon realised there was no chance of a mere ordinary citizen being allowed access there at this point in time. If Amyklas was hereabouts, he'd have to be hiding amongst the encircling crowd who were watching the spectacle with great interest. Xena therefore, having the advantage of height, gave the seething throng a careful scrutiny—without result.

"He ain't here, Gab. Let's try the Pandion."

—O—

Amyklas, as both warriors had carefully noted on first spotting him that morning, was wearing a long ankle-length white linen toga; trying to make himself look as much like a prosperous Athenian citizen as possible; which, from one viewpoint, he indubitably was. However this mode of attire had several drawbacks, high amongst which was the incapacity to run fast when being pursued by cold remorseless enemies. As things were turning out he was only now, instead of being able to congratulate himself on finally reaching safety, truly beginning to realise his actual danger. He had, after his own nefarious purposes, been inside the Sanctuary of Pandion; presently, clearly unsuccessful in his errand and exiting the main door at a rate of knots without any proper regard for personal security, he practically fell into the arms of those hunting him. The force of the shock to their individual nervous systems, from this unexpected event, was virtually equal on all sides—an interesting scientific aspect of the incident which might have brought a sigh of satisfaction to Archimedes himself, if he had only been around to observe it.

"_Great Athena!_ Is that?—_Hades_, it is. He's just come out'ta the temple."

Xena's surprise was so intense she hesitated; only an instant, but enough for Amyklas to register his danger, turn swiftly on an obol, and make a rush across the short grass of the garden-lawn towards the rear of the Parthenon.

"Come on, lady!" Gabrielle, unexpectedly, was already five paces in front of her paramour, and making speed. "_Hera!_ Get a move on, woman—he's escaping, again."

It became clear, as the women darted amid the strolling passers-by, that their prey was intending to enter the great Temple by the rear door—which, enticingly, lay wide open; the cool dark interior appearing, to the running man, as the already proverbial port-in-a-storm.

"Get out'ta my way, Gabs." The Princess was intent on making good her mistake. "You're holdin' me up."

This reproach was somewhat unwarranted as there was still ten paces between the women, and all Xena needed to do was veer slightly to her left—but castigating an innocent companion was as good a way as any of letting off steam, so she did.

Amyklas now proceeded, at this defining moment, to make that single primary error which was fated to encompass all the difference to him between silk sheets, unlimited future orgiastic symposiums, and all the sexual partners you could possibly imagine—and a winding-sheet, accompanied by a hole in the ground. He slowed down, Gods' knew why; turned to glance rapidly over his shoulder; and was horrified by what this action brought into view—a determined Amazon, closely followed by a tall dark clearly insane woman warrior waving a long sword over her head and screaming a warcry that shrivelled his blood. Plainly put off his stride by this early view of approaching Tartarus, he evidently instantly abandoned the idea of entering the Parthenon and instead swung round to his left; heading in a direction at right-angles to the Temple, but with no particular destination in view except the edge of the Acropolis plateau with its low wall. Ten more paces and he was off the grass and felt the light gravel of the path, bordering the wall at the hill's edge, under his sandals—beyond this lay nothing but a wonderful view of Piraeus with the gleaming bay in the distance and, closer to home, a vertical drop of some eighty feet to the barren bare rocky incline below. The footpath itself led, on either hand, to other parts of the vast compound; but each direction was obstructed by literally masses of people out to enjoy themselves—and a fair number of others who had perceived that something was going forward amidst them, and so were beginning to form another impenetrable interested crowd—an ongoing aspect of the day's events which, for the first time, Xena found herself being grateful for. Both women finally came to a sliding halt some five paces from the still-wheezing man—the nearest to him either had been during the whole course of their pursuit.

"Well, well, Amyklas. Ain't this just dandy?" The black-haired warrior was remarkably like a cat sometimes—she liked to play with her captured victims. "That's Piraeus, down there in the distance. Don't it look pretty, in the sunlight. But you ain't ever goin' t'see it, or whatever ship you thought was gon'na take your sorry carcass t'safety. No safety for you, you little pr—k, only the Senate and justice."

"Give up. There's nowhere left t'go." Gabrielle was more pragmatic, though she was still gasping for breath—outrunning the Princess was never an easy matter. "It's all over,—better t'surrender quietly."

The Grecian man stood stock still, his dark beard fluttering slightly in the cool breeze. He stared into the face of, firstly, Xena,—then the softer, generally more openhearted, features of Gabrielle. Apparently he did not find what he sought in either woman's countenance—for, with remarkable and surprising agility, he turned to make a swift jump, tottered on top of the low wall for a moment then, quite clearly with a determined intent, took a final stride forward, falling out of sight in an instant. Only a single breath later both women heard the horrible thump and rattle of loose stones as he hit the rocks below—everything was at an end for Amyklas; the only question left being whether he had enough coins about him to pay Charon for the short voyage across the Styx.

—O—

"Well, Princess, was that a success—or the other thing?"

"The other thing." Xena could look such in the eye when necessary; though she didn't like it one little bit. She growled, like a starving wolf. "What a disaster."

"The Senate gave us an illuminated scroll, on finest parchment, signifying their undying gratitude." Gabrielle pursed her lips as she ran a hand over the object in question, lying on the table at which they were both sitting. "And five hundred drachmas. Wonder which'll disappear first?"

"The scroll's statement, o'course,—when did ya ever hear of a political party who's word ya could trust from one day t'the next?" The Warrior Princess was clearly labouring under a cloud. "An' I've a good mind t'examine those drachmas, t'see if they're not all counterfeit."

The women were in their room, at the Inn where they had stayed throughout their visit to the great metropolis. Two days had gone by since the dramatic end to their chase through the city; whilst they had only an hour previously returned from the ceremony where a grateful Senate had registered their appreciation—the Senators being, apparently, not a whit disturbed by the sudden exit of the Scythian spy. There obviously being, as Xena had whispered at the time to her blonde beautiful lover, wheels within wheels; and, anyway, who could ever hope to fathom a politician's mind.

"_Humph!_" Gabrielle, on the other hand, could clearly see the silver lining of the cloud which was hovering darkly over her compatriot's gloomy head. "The first point of order then, as I see it, is to leave this place as quickly as we can pack our things. Head out North a'ways, t'where I know a party of Amazons from my tribe are awaiting our arrival with bated breath—y'can't really understand an Amazon y'know, Xena, till you've seen with just how much gay abandon they can throw money around at a country town's market."

"_Harrph!_" The Princess wasn't in the mood for being comforted by mere words.

"And then we go off into the wild wherever, amongst all those woods, trees, mountain streams, and lovely swimming holes that're scattered so usefully all over Northern Greece." The Amazon Queen could paint a poetic fantasy with the best. "That's _alone_, sweetness; by ourselves; no-one else; just you an' me. Wha'd'ya say, luscious?"

The Princess looked over at her companion; gave her an intent scrutiny; and came to the only possible decision.

"I'm with ya, all the way." Xena visibly perked up, a bright light appearing in her fabulous sapphire blue eyes. "Say, can we dump the _throwing money around with your Amazon friends_ bit, an' just cut to the chase—er, sorry, wrong phrase. I mean, a wood, a mountain stream, a swimming hole; you, an' me. Yep, I can do that. Come on, Gabs, ain't ya got your bags packed yet? I took my saddle-bags down t'Argo an hour ago."

"_What?_" The Amazon was intrigued, and also impressed. "How'd you know what I was goin' t'ask you, before I hardly knew myself?"

"Y'forget, darling, I have many skills!"

"_Great Athena!_ OK, I give up. Let's go."

The End.

—O—

To be continued in the next instalment of the '_Xena's Exploits'_ series.

—OOO—


End file.
